


the same four songs on repeat

by dhils



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, M/M, real hunks do good deeds send tweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 01:43:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17840024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhils/pseuds/dhils
Summary: The lemonade Nolan makes them is pink. Pink like his gardening gloves, the impatiens, and his cheeks everytime Nico makes a joke that gets him laughing too hard.





	the same four songs on repeat

**Author's Note:**

> i really just wanted to write about neighbours being neighbourly and then i thought ..... but what if they were in l*ve

“Nobody ever said moving to Canada was gonna be an easy transition,” Jesper says from the laptop Nico’s got perched on his countertop. “Or a fun one, this is literally the perfect storm you’ve got going.” 

Nico has to bite back the urge to glare at him, but he ends up dropping the apple he’s supposed to be shoving into his bag and directs that negative energy towards the camera anyways. He doubts Jesper can pick it up regardless, not through the grainy footage. “I have a good reason.”

“Canadians were born there, man, no other excuse is actually valid,” Jesper returns, and then watches with judgmental eyes as Nico picks his apple up off the ground and drops it into his bag. Look, college is a grind. 

“Scholarship,” Nico says dryly, and works to try and zip his bag up so he doesn’t drop anything else on the floor. But. “Anyways, you need to shut up—“

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Damn, look at the time,” Nico says, and hits the end call button on FaceTime just to snap his laptop shut and slip it right into his bag. _Now_ , he can zip it up, quick enough that he can speed out the door but not enough that he gets the zipper stuck.

Perfect storm his ass, he’s got his jacket on and shoes tied up a minute before he’s doomed to be late. He’s barely running out the door, hell, you could say he’s ahead of schedule. Or, well, he totally could be, given the opportunity.

But he’s not given the opportunity. Not this time.

Because Nico grabs the doorknob, twists, and pulls, and that’s exactly where his problem lies. 

He hears the crackle of something that sounds somewhat like ice breaking and the door won’t budge. He pulls again, because usually when you do that a door opens. Especially if it’s a perfectly fine door.

Just, not in this case. Not if it’s frozen and very much refusing to open. 

_Fuck_ , Nico mouths to nobody in particular. Maybe the door, maybe early classes, maybe this entire city in general.

 

 

The only good thing that comes out of Nico trying to brute force his door open for the next ten minutes is the ultimate reminder that he’s got his neighbour’s number on his phone. Which, like, yeah, the guy’s definitely a decently experienced Canadian, but he’s also not so hard on the eyes. Plus, Nico hasn’t really had an excuse to call him since he helped fix up his window. 

(“Just gotta wiggle it a little to get it working,” Nolan had told him, dropping his screwdriver back into his toolbox. “Think you can do that?” 

Nico nodded his head, offering this weak little smile in the dipping sunlight, where the pinks unhelpfully played right over Nolan’s features. “No problem,” he said, even if he could probably pick out a few problems with—all of that.)

This, though, getting trapped in his condo with no way to get out before class, it seems like a good enough excuse to call him. 

So, Nico gives his door one more chance before taking to his phone. The knob gives, there’s a crackle of ice, and the door stays frozen in place. 

Building up the courage to call Nolan is a whole lot easier when he’s just gotta press the contact instead of having to dial up a whole seven digit number. Even if seeing Nolan’s name pop up on the screen makes his heart jitter just briefly in his chest. 

He’s got his phone pressed to his ear for two rings, maybe three, until he’s got Nolan’s voice on the other end. Warm and smooth and even lower through the phone, which is probably more than Nico was ready to handle when he decided to do this, but this is fine too.

“Hey, what’s up?” Nolan says, and it all just swirls into something that almost sounds like he’s slurring his words, but it’s 8 AM and nobody drinks this early in the morning. 

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” 

“Kinda, like, sorta,” he starts, “but whatever. Is something the matter? That’s probably a lot more important right now.”

Nico fidgets with his jacket, sliding his hand into the pocket, back out, and then in again just because he isn’t sure what to do with the one that isn’t currently clenching onto his phone for dear life. He’s not sure how a godforsaken city like Winnipeg blessed him with such a helpful neighbour, but he’s gotta pay his respects. 

“Okay, so,” Nico says, drawing it out—mostly because he isn’t sure how to explain this, if it’s even a normal occurrence. He doesn’t think he can say it’s ever happened to him before. “Is it weird that my door is frozen? Like, I cannot get it open. At all. That’s weird, right?” 

There’s a rustling of sheets on the other end of the line, a pause, and Nico gets a muffled laugh in return. 

Nico feels his forehead crease and he swears his face is just a little red. “ _Please_ help, I have a class,” he whines, because he’s useless and the worst, but also way out of his element.

”Alright, okay, do you own a hair dryer? That’s always my go-to,” Nolan explains. “Just gotta warm up the lock and you’re good to go.”

“You own a hair dryer,” Nico says, because that’s what he chooses to linger on. Not the helpful advice.

“No,” Nolan denies. It really only lasts a second because, “Yes. Okay, yeah, and you sure as hell do, too.”

Nico doesn’t bother to kick off his shoes to head for his room and grab what he needs. A fucking hair dryer. “You don’t know me well enough to assume that.” 

“A month of friendship isn’t well enough?” Nolan asks.

“You don’t call.” 

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” 

There’s a pause, and Nico uses it to plug his hair dryer into the outlet closest to the door. He’s just gotta pray the cord is long enough. 

Nolan says, “I’m gonna hang up because I don’t wanna go deaf, but you have fun with. Your thing.” 

“Not sure if you’ve caught on yet, but blow drying doors is kind of your thing,” Nico crouches because this’ll probably be easier if he’s got a better angle at the door, and he’s got the pride to say he’s too tall to do it standing straight up.

“You’re welcome,” Nolan stresses, with this soft little laugh that makes Nico wish he could stay on the line just a little longer. 

“Thanks, seriously,” Nico responds automatically, even if he knows it was mostly a joke. “I’ll see you.”

He can almost hear the smile in Nolan’s voice when he says, “Bye, Nico.” It’s in this way that gets Nico forgetting to hang up until he hears the dial-tone on the other end, but he’s not really in any rush anymore. He’s already late, a few more moments can’t possibly hurt. 

So, Nico blow dries his door, gets it open, and shoots Nolan a text that says _ur a genius!!_ before immediately turning off his phone. He’s got a class to get to, and that’s that.

 

 

When Nico gets back home, he sees Nolan shovelling up the sidewalk in front of his place—as in, in front of _Nico’s_ place, and he probably feels three different things in his chest all at once before he actually manages to get out of his car. 

One of them is definitely gratitude, he’s bursting out of his skin with it. But there’s a lot, is the thing, and it’s better that Nico leaves it at that.

“Hey,” he calls out to Nolan, who looks up with these sweet eyes that Nico hates himself for melting at the sight of. 

Nolan waves one gloved hand in response, the other curled around his shovel, and Nico thinks he’s wearing the Winter Olympics gloves. It’s hard to not be endeared by that, or to ignore them in the first place. “Hey,” he says, and stands the shovel up on one end. “Did you make it to class in time?”

Nico scoffs. “Not even close. But I liked being able to get out of my house, definitely owe that to you.” He steps around his car and when his foot hits the sidewalk, there’s no crunch of snow under his foot. “You’re a godsend, seriously.” 

Nolan smiles, that same smile that makes Nico’s heart clench with something fierce. It’s all the more difficult to stomp the feeling down when it’s paired with the way his cheeks are flushed with the cold, looking pleased and warm even under the frozen weather. “Just trying to help out, coming in from out of the country probably makes it hard to get used to, like,” Nolan waves his hand around a little vaguely, “all of this.”

“You’re way too nice, you know that?” Nico says, and sticks his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

Nolan laughs quietly, his eyes crinkle just a little at the corners. “You’re still going to have to clean up your own walkway, I might freeze to death if I’m out here for another second.” 

“I thought Canadians were immune to the cold.” 

“I wish.” Nolan blows out a little breath that goes white once it slips past his lips. “Oh, uh, do you—own a shovel?” He smiles at him like he’d totally understand if Nico didn’t.

And, like, props to being understanding. Because, “not really,” Nico says, before he makes a total idiot of himself. 

“Gotcha,” Nolan says, and glances down at his shovel. Something passes over his face that Nico can’t quite place, but everything fades a little when he adds, “you can use mine. I don’t need it until the next snowfall.”

“There’s gonna be another one?” Nico groans, and he’s not even faux-distressed, just terribly over all of this. “You’re a life-saver, thank you.” 

“I’m gonna head inside, good luck. Don’t fall, okay? Lots of ice.” Nolan hands him the shovel, and Nico would probably have a crisis over their fingers brushing if Nolan wasn’t wearing gloves and Nico’s hand wasn’t numb. 

“No promises,” Nico says, and gets just a glint of Nolan’s grin as he walks off. 

The clouds are a solid slate of grey in the sky, so Nico gets to it before he gets caught up in a blizzard. 

 

 

 _i’m here if u need anything:)_ is sitting on Nico’s home screen when he switches his phone on, from Nolan. 

He’s still shivering from the cold, even after kicking the heater up a few notches. His fingers feel frozen while he types back _think u can make it summer again??_ and he swipes out of the conversation just for a beat to tap into his mail inbox.

A minute later, _i made hot chocolate, come over!_ slides over the top of his screen, and just a glance towards the shovel he’s got propped up against the door gets him on his feet. He’s gotta return it anyways.

 _ur the best_ , he sends back, and pulls on the jacket he’s got thrown over the back of his couch. 

 

 

Nolan looks all soft and happy as he opens up the door for Nico, and Nico’s too busy cataloguing the way the warmth hits him all at once to blurt out much of a greeting. A stuttery _hi_ , must be enough though, because Nolan lets him slip inside no questions asked.

It’s probably because Nico has his shovel, which Nolan helpfully takes off his hands. Setting it against the wall. “You look like an ice cube,” he points out, and Nico doesn’t even have it in him to disagree. 

He kicks off his shoes. His refusal to invest in boots is standing out pretty starkly at this point. “It’s awful out there.”

“No kidding, which is why I’m inside. Like a normal person?” 

“Glad you find this funny,” Nico says bitterly, and Nolan takes his jacket from him, stowing it away the closet. “But, honestly, thank you.”

“Stop being mushy, hot chocolate’s getting cold,” Nolan tells him, and leads them into the kitchen.

 

 

Nico has pretty much decided that there’s really some kind of higher power out there watching over him by the time Nolan tells him, dead-serious, that hot chocolate isn’t actually hot chocolate without marshmallows. It’s definitely some kind of neighbourly god, making sure he’s blessed with nothing but the best, and Nolan is beyond the best. 

“Things are nicer in the summer,” Nolan insists, catching when Nico shivers as he wraps his hands around his mug. There’s a maple leaf in the middle and Nico’s getting used to rolling his finger overtop of it. “If you don’t like scalding hot weather, then they’re probably worse but,” he shrugs, “no snow.” 

“That means no sledding,” Nico points out.

“Yeah, but,” Nolan taps his fingers against the side of his mug. Everytime his nails catch, they let out a soft little _clink_. “There’s gardening. Lots of it.” 

“You garden?” Nico can hear the disbelief in his own voice. He doesn’t mean for it to sound rude, but he’s known Nolan for some time now and even that’s shocking to him.

“Uh, hell yeah I garden, how else am I supposed to entertain myself.”

Nico raises his eyebrows at him.

“Oh, I get it. you think I’ve got a little old lady in my head,” Nolan says. “Is gardening not, like, hot anymore.”

“What? _No_ ,” Nico returns, and he’s not all that sure which one he’s disagreeing with. He decides not to clarify. Especially because he can _see_ and he’s pretty sure Nolan could be into knitting and somehow make that hot. That would land pretty low on the list of things that actually surprise him. “Just don’t remember the last time I met someone who gardens who isn’t, y’know, one of my mom’s book club friends.” 

Nolan looks stupidly understanding about that, leaning back on the couch to flash Nico this tiny little smile. “Honestly, the worst part is I can’t even disagree with that.” 

 

 

The snow melts in late March and Nico finally gets a chance to move around without worrying about sliding over a patch of ice or having to face a fresh snowfall in the mornings. As winter fades, spring hits, but it’s nothing pretty. 

It’s not what Nico’s used to, instead it’s snow melting grossly on the roads and leaving a mess of brown muck on the streets. It’s yellow grass, looking like it’s been drying out for years, and naked skeletal trees refusing to grow leaves, or even buds.

The weather still doesn’t get better, but Nico can walk around in a hoodie and hope an oncoming car doesn’t soak him in discoloured water. He nearly considers taking an umbrella around, but it doesn’t rain nearly as much for him to need one. 

Like today, when the sun is hidden behind furious grey clouds and just one thunderstorm would wash away the left over snow. But nothing happens.

It’s 9 AM and it looks like it could be 9 in the evening, but Nico just pulls his hood over his head and—

“Morning,” he hears, and nearly flinches. Or maybe he does, because he doesn’t remember his textbook being on the ground. He hears a few of the pages crinkle, but he really couldn’t care less, just trying to pick it back up and tucking it under his arm.

“Hey—uh, hi,” Nico offers weakly, tugging his hood off to get a good look at Nolan, who’s sitting on the front steps to his own place with a small bag discarded lazily by his feet.

Nolan blinks at him, visibly biting back the smile tugging up the corners of his lips. “Sorry, I didn’t scare you did I?”

“Um,” Nico says, and tightens his grip on his textbook. “Nope, I just like letting my books get some air.”

“I don’t doubt that.” 

“And how about you? There isn’t that much of a view out here,” Nico says, obviously nudging at their shared lawn which is still very much trying to recover from the spring melt. It’s just not doing well. 

“Beauty in the little things, man,” Nolan says, straight out of a hippie’s nature documentary. Nico almost thinks he’s quoting one, but—that would be too good. 

Nico rolls his eyes. “Okay, and?”

“My car won’t start up, waiting for my buddy to come pick me up. Think he might be running late because, I dunno, traffic.” He’s staring at the bend in the road a few metres down like a car’ll just magically appear out of thin air. Nico feels bad enough that he wishes it did. 

“That’s really shitty, sorry,” Nico says, and Nolan shrugs at him like _what can ya do_. 

“I’m just going to work, I don’t care if I’m late.” Nolan tells him. “How about you? Headed anywhere special?

“No, uh, not really,” he says, because class isn’t actually anything special. “Hey, I can give you a ride to work? I don’t mind, seriously. I’ve got nothing to do.”

Nico’s wondering if he imagines the way there’s this tiny sparkle beneath Nolan’s eyes, blue and bright and oh-so-welcoming. He’s not staring, but he could be. Acknowledging it right off the bat would just be revealing too much. 

“What, actually? Are you sure?” 

“No problem, like I said,” Nico tells him, and feels this little swell of—something, he’s not even sure—right in the pit of his chest. “Plus, you can point cool landmarks out to me on the way there.”

“Winnipeg has no landmarks,” Nolan says, grinning. It’s something warm and sated. “But I can make them up as I go.” 

Nico nods his head and watches Nolan get to his feet. 

It’s not a problem that it makes his pulse thud just a little faster when Nolan slips into the passenger side of his car, but it _might_ be a problem that Nolan’s eyes are all he can think about for the next few hours. 

 

 

Nico wakes up to the most annoying sound in the fucking world, this incessant buzz of a lawn mower. His room’s a lot closer to the back of his condo for it to be much more than white noise, but he’s still way too reluctant to get out of bed and check out the damage. 

The thing is, he’s buried underneath blankets at 1 at the afternoon, so he’s got no right to complain, but getting out of bed on regular days is difficult. He just needs a break. Or fifteen. Or literally any amount would be good, just more than this. 

He doesn’t want to get up, but when he finally does, he doesn’t distribute his weight properly enough to go three steps without nearly taking a fall. Then he just reaches for the first shirt he sees and treks out of his room like that, heading straight for the windows facing the front lawn. 

It’s Nolan. Of course it is, the guy’s nothing if he isn’t all for trying to make the place look presentable. Nico’s bleary-eyed, still coming down from a night’s sleep, but he’s still _got_ eyes. Which means he’s got a clear view of his side of the lawn and it looks a lot like it’s been shaven down. 

He blows out a little breath and heads for the front door, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror right by it. He nearly winces at the awful bed head, and the shirt collar that’s everything wrong with him and just a little askew, but he peeks out of the house anyways. 

It’s a lot louder out there, the lawn mower, and Nico squints underneath the harsh sunlight as he waits for Nolan to finish up.

He does, soon enough, and fuck Nico for even thinking that Nolan doing yard work is the hottest thing he’s seen like—ever. Because he gets lost in it until the lawn mower goes silent, and that definitely startles him a lot more than the jarring roar of it in the first place. 

“Neighbour of the year,” Nico says, leaning over the railing of the steps to his door. He’s barely awake, it’s probably best to keep his distance. For now at least.

Nolan almost looks taken aback, until he looks up over at Nico and his expression melts into something gentle. Nico should be used to that look by now, the faded tendrils of joy that linger over his lips and eyes, but he drinks it in like he couldn’t get enough if he tried. 

“You? Hands down,” Nolan says.

He pushes his hair out of his face with long fingers that make Nico have to bite the insides of his cheeks just to tear his gaze away. He’s gotta do it quick and painless, just like a band-aid. Just like he’s always done it.

“For sleeping in ‘til noon? I’m flattered, but you’d be getting snubbed.” Nico watches Nolan drag the mower up a little closer to his door, and adds, “I owe you like, fifty good deeds.” 

“Make it up to me when you get too good for Winnipeg and move outta town, I seriously need an out,” he says, and that gets a laugh out of Nico.

“You deserve better than that,” Nico tells him. And then sticks around chatting Nolan up until it hurts to stand, because nobody’s ever called him a coward. 

 

 

It’s not something he’s proud of, not by a long shot, but he nearly trips over himself when he steps out of the house to Nolan planting flowers shirtless.

So, hey, maybe sometimes Nico’s a coward—maybe he considers turning right around and getting his fair share of sunshine when Nolan isn’t out here trying to steal the breath from his lungs, but that isn’t going to happen. 

It’s half a second before, “oh, hey,” Nolan calls, waving his trowel at Nico.

He can’t believe he’s gotta pretend that he’s not staring at the muscle definition in his torso, the way it tapers down into a slim waist and hips that are just barely holding onto the jeans slung around them. He’s not the best at acting, is the problem. And there’s no way anything he’s doing to avoid staring is anywhere near convincing. 

“Hey, wow, you, um,” Nico doesn’t even know what to say, just knows that he’s struggling to get anything other than _fuck_ off his tongue. “You really do garden.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Nolan says. And then looks up and over at him, from where he’s kneeling down in the grass. “C’mere, I’m almost done.” 

Nico takes one breath for good luck before biting the bullet and crossing the lawn, barely managing it across before he’s all caught up in Nolan’s shoulders, and his chest, and— _Nolan_. Not something he’s proud of for sure. 

“What’re you planting?” Nico asks, like it’s the only question he’s got on his mind. There’s a lot of things he could say right now, it’s just a matter of being appropriate.

“Just impatiens,” Nolan says, “Wanna try?” 

Nico considers making up some kind of excuse, because this is already a lot for him, but then he’s kneeling down right next to him. “Yeah, just—show me how?” 

Nolan nods at him. “You’re gonna have two green thumbs by the end of this,” he tells him, and then glances around. “Uh, you can borrow my gloves.” 

Nico takes the gloves as he’s handed them. They’re this soft pastel pink, almost the same shade as the impatiens, and he vaguely wonders if that was planned on Nolan’s part. 

“Have you ever done this before?” He asks, watching Nico pull the gloves on.

Nico tries to school his expression into something that hides at least a little bit of the butterflies soaring free in his stomach, but his last resort is just taking the potted impatien and focusing on that. “Like, once as a kid. But I won’t ruin your flowers, don’t worry.“ He can feel Nolan’s gaze down to his gut. “Tell me if I’m doing something wrong. But I won’t.”

“Confident,” Nolan teases, and Nico offers him this little grin. 

The flowers slip right out of the pot, the release is smooth and easy, and all Nico really has to do is loosen the roots under the instructions he gets from Nolan. “Just be gentle,” he says, and, “not too fast,” and Nico can feel his face burn up until the second he slides the impatiens into their bed. 

Nolan’s watching his face, and Nico thinks he’s imagining it, but when he looks over their eyes meet just like that. Something clicks in the back of his head. “Pat the soil right over and you’re home free.” 

Nico nods slowly, trying to focus on cleaning up the spot. It’s smooth underneath his hand, he can feel the terrain even through the fabric of the glove, and something about it sends him right back to his mother’s garden as a child. Except, here it’s Nolan. And part of him doesn’t even mind. 

“Like that?” Nico asks.

“Just like that.” 

“They’re pretty,” Nico comments, because it’s a total change of scenary . They get the place looking a lot less dead.

And, looking right at Nico, Nolan says, “yeah. They are.” 

Nolan lets him water the impatiens with his bright yellow watering can and Nico, infuriatingly easy for him, takes the chance to spend just a few more moments with him. 

 

 

The lemonade Nolan makes them is pink. Pink like his gardening gloves, the impatiens, and his cheeks everytime Nico makes a joke that gets him laughing too hard. 

They’ve both got a tall glass, complete with blocky ice, a straw, and a jaunty little umbrella perched right over the side. Nico’s still trying to get over the umbrellas.

“You know, when I drink with friends, it’s usually booze. This is a nice change of pace, me and you,” he says. “Better than waking up with hangovers, too.”

“I mean, I could bartend for you if that’s what you really want.” Nolan swirls the straw in his glass around, and the ice brushes the edges with sounds that Nico only ever hears in the summer. The clinking.

Nico smiles up at the clouds, they’re sparse and fluffy, but barely enough to stretch over the blue skies. When he brings his gaze down to Nolan, his cheeks are still pink, and Nico wants to touch. He’s wanted to touch for the longest time. 

“I like this a lot better,” he insists, and shifts over just to press his head up against Nolan’s shoulder. He thinks he might tense up for just a second, waiting for Nolan to shove him off as a joke, or just outright nudge him away, but everything stills. It’s this calm between them, and Nico lets his nerves leave him with the next exhale he takes. 

“Good point,” Nolan says. “Me too.”

 

 

With autumn comes the faded colours of a summer spiralling to an end. It’s all golds, ambers, and scarlets on tree leaves as they flutter to the ground. The early beginnings to days as the skies flare into wild reds further and further into the morning, all warm tones drenching the city persistently enough that it almost looks beautiful. Better than it has all year, maybe. 

With autumn comes the colours, the warm embrace of lattes in the morning chill, and Nolan telling him, “it’s called fall, what the fuck.”

“But autumn sounds a hell of a lot prettier,” Nico protests, trying to keep up with him. They’re heading down the sidewalk, Nolan’s wrist attached to a long leash that draws out to the excited Labrador retriever that could be just about miles ahead of them. 

(Nico had caught sight of her earlier and immediately thought she was Nolan’s but, “I’m just taking care of Lila for my cousin, she’s not mine,” he’d explained. Which was a bit of a shame.)

“I don’t care, you’re not writing _poetry_ ,” Nolan says. He scoffs when Lila pauses, nosing at a dandelion. “Or, are you? I knew you were a poetry guy.”

“Okay, rude.”

“Definitely not an insult.”

“Oh,” Nico blurts. “Wow, I’m—honoured?”

Nolan smiles at him, this glimmer under his eyes as he glances his way and lets Lila practically wrench them off course. She heads down a field until she’s clawing up the side of a hill. 

She’s definitely excited about it and Nico can’t help but focus on that, rather than the embarrassingly frequent brush of his and Nolan’s hands. 

He could link their fingers. He thinks about it, but then Nolan’s laughing about trying to catch up with Lila and Nico’s running up the side of the hill right along with him.

It’s too early in the morning to follow after him, especially with the orange in the skies still stark, but he finds his legs hiking up the side of the hill anyways. Until they’re up on the top with a clear view of the lake on the other side. 

Lila’s still scampering around.

“This was such a bad idea,” Nolan huffs out. He doesn’t sound anywhere near pissed off, just mild. Maybe it’s the little curl in his lips that throws it off. 

Nico gives him a blatant once-over, makes sure he looks skeptical. “You don’t really think that.”

“Maybe.”

Lila comes right back to them right there and she’s sniffing at Nolan’s shoes, pawing away, until Nolan finally lets go and scratches her behind the ear. She still doesn’t let up until they’re heading down the other side of the hill towards the lake.

“I mean, even if it’s a slight pain in the ass, it‘s fun,” Nico says, just barely skimming over what he wants to say. And then, stupidly, “I like spending time with you.” 

“That’s because you’re a masochist,” Nolan says, rolling the leash in just slightly so Lila doesn’t go straight for the water. 

“Mhm, yeah, I’m the masochist.” Nico looks over the area for a second before giving in and sitting down at the base of a tree. He pats the spot right next to him. “C’mere.” 

Nolan’s eyes are still zeroed in on Lila when he settles down next to him. Nico could laugh about it, but Nolan just stays quiet for a second, two, three. “You know, I like spending time with you too,” he eventually says, abandoning the silence between them.

“Yeah?” Nico asks. He’s smiling before he can help it, and Nolan returns it just like that.

“Yeah,” he says. “‘course.” 

What Nico isn’t expecting is Nolan’s hand light on top of his. Both of them are tucked in the grass, stray sprigs of it kissing skin, but Nolan is all he can focus on. His stomach flips, the world freezes up, and even Lila’s tuckered out enough from running around that she’s occupied herself with chewing on some of the daisies springing up near the foot of the hill.

Nico wants to flip his hand over and intertwine their fingers. He wants to test the waters, see if this is really what he thinks it is, but he decides not to push. Maybe it’s better that way. Maybe it’ll be easy if he doesn’t blow this up.

But then—he barely gauges any of this as it happens, but he knows it’s exactly how it works out. He knows he chances a look and Nolan’s the one who leans into his space. His hand remains this soft warmth on Nico’s even as he’s bridging the small gap between their lips, and then he’s kissing him. It’s something Nico’s wanted for so long, long enough that he’s completely tossed off guard as it’s happening. This painstaking, tentative, soft, soft, soft kiss between them. Nico nearly forgets to return it. 

He can hear the thrum of his heartbeat in his ears, can feel the rush of heat to his cheeks, and is all too familiar with the way his heart beats hard enough to break right through his ribs. Everything spins, Nolan pulls away, and it doesn’t stop.

“Oh,” Nico breathes out, followed by the smallest laugh because he barely knows what to say. How to express that Nolan’s given him everything he’s ever needed, and then _this_. “You—you kissed me.” 

“I’m gonna tell you, as a friend, that you sound just a little stupid,” Nolan says good-naturedly. The least surprising thing about all of this is that he’s perfectly calm about it. Especially since Nico’s the one doing somersaults in his head. 

“That hurts.”

“No, no, it’s cute.” Nolan’s thumb is calloused, but the way he strokes the skin of his hand is careful. 

Nico just thinks _fuck it_ and turns his whole hand over, entwining his fingers with Nolan’s. “Here, can you—“ He isn’t even sure how to ask for what he wants, but Nolan definitely catches the gist of it once Nico’s closer to him. 

He kisses him again and again, under the shade of a tree with leaves tinted in all the colours of autumn. Nico doesn’t know what to do with his hands or his words, so he wraps himself in all of it. And that’ll be enough. 


End file.
